The Phantom's Curse
by Anomaly9
Summary: Christine Daae has lead a sheltered life as a chorus girl for the renowned Opera Populair. But when a date with her childhood sweetheart goes awry and she is finally brought face to face with her mysterious Angel of Music, her once secure and predictable world is shattered forever. Will Erik be the one to keep her safe? Or is he the real danger? E/C
1. In Dreams He Came

The walls of the dark, mist shrouded room seemed to stretch into eternity. The only illumination came from a few candles that oozed wax onto the floor below, creating warm puddles at her feet. The walls were painted a deep shade of red onto which the flickering candles cast eerie shadows. There was no furniture, save for an elaborately gilded mirror that reached up to the impossibly high ceiling. In it, Christine could only stare at her ghostly reflection. She didn't dare move.

Then, the sound of footsteps echoed in the emptiness. Instantly, Christine's heart began to race, though not from fear like she knew it should. No, this was something unfamiliar, some alien feeling that coursed through her veins, delicious and toxic. Her heart beat faster as the footsteps drew closer...and stopped. Then, like an apparition, he appeared in the mirror. His figure was tall and dark, clothed in a long, black cape. Christine took in his powerful form as something beyond her control compelled her to sink back against his broad chest. With a rueful smile, she rolled her head upward to look into his face. She never could make out his appearance clearly, his only discerning feature being a stark, white mask covering the left side of his face.

Suddenly, she felt his hands on her. Warm and rough, they glided up either side of her neck to her jaw, then back down to rest at her collarbones. Christine closed her eyes at the sensation. His fingers traced a path across her collarbones to the lace of her nightgown. Slowly, he slipped the fabric from her shoulders, sliding it down her arms and over her breasts. Christine's head rolled back against him, her lips parting. she felt his hand on her breast, caressing it. The action elicited a moan from her lips.

She felt him all around her, as if his very essence seeped inside of her, staining her soul with its brilliance.

His hand slid from her breast and up her neck to cup her chin in his strong fingers.

"Christine..." He whispered. His voice reminded her of thunder rumbling through a clouded sky. Low and deep, it struck nerves in places she never knew existed.

She felt him lean down into her neck. His lips caressed her sensitive skin.

"Oh, Christine..." He whispered against the delicate skin of her neck. Those three whispered syllables reached into her core, making her shiver.

"Christine, I need you..." slowly, his voice began to fade.

"Christine..."

"Christine! For heaven's sake, wake up!" Christine felt a hand on her shoulder, wrestling her from sleep. Her eyes fluttered open to Meg's worried face looming over her.

"Hmm? What time is it?" Christine mumbled. She sat up in bed and rubbed her palms against her tired eyes. It was the dream again. she'd had it before, but never had it affected her so deeply.

"Time to get out of bed! We have rehearsal this morning."

Of course, the dress rehearsal for Hannibal. She'd all but forgotten. She glanced passed Meg to see the other chorus girls were already bustling about the dorm, preparing themselves for the day ahead, like she should be.

"It's not like you to oversleep, Christine." Meg said, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. She reached a hand up to Christine's forehead, checking for a fever. Her brows furrowed with concern.

"Are you well? You look awfully flushed. I heard you groaning last night in your sleep and thought you might be ill."

the blush that creeped up Christine's neck was not from sickness. She clutched the night gown to her chest self consciously and averted her eyes from Meg's curious ones.

"I'm quite alright, Meg." Christine said as she shuffled her legs out from under the covers. she needed to get dressed and quickly. At this rate, she'd be the last one on stage. She practically flung herself out of bed and hurried down the hall toward the dressing room.

"Are you sure?" Meg called as she raced down the hall after Christine. "If you're not, I can tell Maman. I'm sure she'll go easier on you."

Christine glanced back at Meg, flashing her a warm smile. She did love Meg's caring nature. It was one of a long list of qualities that endeared her to her oldest friend at the opera populaire.

"You worry too much. I'll be fine."

Christine dressed in a hurry shuffling the jewelled garment over her head and hips. When she finished, Meg took her hand and led her from the dressing room. They followed the last straggling of girls down the spiral staircase to the stage, taking their places at the barre just in time to avoid a scolding from Madame Giry.

Carlotta's shrieking voice pierced through the auditorium and it was all Christine could do not to wince.

"...As you can see, production is now underway for the latest production, Hanniabl..."

"Monsieur, please I am rehearsing!" Reyer cried out as Monsieur Lefevre entered the stage, two other men in tow that Christine had not seen before. One was tall with a curled moustache, the other was short and balding.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Madame Giry, your attention please, thank you." Lefevre addressed the room at large. All the cast members gathered around to hear what news the Opera Populair's owner had in store.

"As you all know, for some weeks there have been rumours of my imminent retirement." The room grew suddenly silent, though the news didn't surprise Christine. She'd heard the whispers in the dormitories and among the other cast members.

"I can assure you that these rumours are true," Lefevre continued. "And now, it is my pleasure to introduce you to the two gentlemen who now own the opera populaire," Lefevre gestured to the two men at his side, "Monsieur Firman and Monsieur Andre." The men bowed and waved as the cast members applauded.

"I'm sure you've read of their recent fortune amassed in the junk business." Monsieur Lefevre commented.

"Scrap metal, actually." The shorter man mumbled, looking slightly annoyed. The tall man called Firman chimed in.

"We are deeply honoured to present our new Patron, the Vicomte de Changye!"

Christine stared, her moth agape as the man emerged from the throng of cast members. She'd know that flop of blonde hair and handsome features anywhere.

"It's Raoul." Christine whispered to Meg, who shot her a questioning look.

"I knew him years ago, before my father died, when we lived in the house by the sea...I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts." Her eyes never left Raoul's face as she spoke. "He called me little Lotte."

"Christine, He's so _handsome_." Meg cooed. Raoul addressed the crowed in front of him.

"My parents and I are honoured to support all the arts, especially the world renowned Opera Populair," Raoul said as Carlotta strutted toward him like a peacock, her hand outstretched. Somewhat awkwardly, Raoul took her hand and kissed it. Christine could see in his eyes that he was taken aback by Carlotta's unbridled arrogance.

Raoul finished greeting the leading members of the cast before making his departure and, Christine imagined, his escape from Carlotta.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it seems as though I am keeping you from your rehearsal. I will be at the gala this evening to share your great triumph." Raoul smiled and nodded to the group.

As he turned to leave, Christine lifted her head towards him in hopes that she would catch his eye, but he walked past her as though she didn't exist. Christine cast her eyes to the floor in disappointment, heart sinking to her toes.

"He wouldn't recognize me." Christine sighed.

"He didn't see you!" Meg chided.

But Christine had no time to pine for her childhood sweetheart. Promptly, Madame Giry waved the dancers onto the stage to rehearse the ballet portion of the performance. Christine contorted her face and body into all the necessary expressions and movements while her mind flooded with the events of the day. She thought of Raoul, now more handsome that she'd remembered. How could he pass her by so easily? Then again, it had been years.

After nearly an hour of back breaking work, the dancers gathered off to the side of the stage to take a breath while the other acts rehearsed their parts. Christine breathed deeply, whipping the sweat from her brow. Her mind had wandered further than she wanted it to go...back to the images from the night before that made goosebumps appear on her flesh...to the voice that haunted her, even in her waking hours...Meg turned to say something to Christine when a commotion from the other end of the stage caught their attention.

"...because I _will_ _not_ _be_ _singing_!" Carlotta bellowed as she stomped toward the exit. The new managers looked at one another, clearly panicked. They rushed towards her, showering her with praise and compliments for there was nothing the famous Diva loved more than adoration.

"I wonder, seniora, as a personal favour, if you would oblige us with a private audition?" Firman asked. As quickly as Carlotta's mood appeared, it was gone, replaced by a sickly sweet smile.

"if my managers command." She crooned. Carlotta stalked toward centre stage and began the aria. Christine suppressed the urge to shield her ears from the squawking noise that was Carlotta's singing. She could see from the new managers faces that the experience was no more pleasant for them. Carlotta droned on,exaggerating every note, gesture and expression to an excruciating degree.

Christine was standing quietly by Meg's side when she noticed a fluttering of fabric above her...then gaped in horror as an entire tapestry fell onto the stage. Commotion broke out instantly, dancers dashing and running every which way to avoid the falling beam.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! My ankle!" Carlotta whined and slapped at the ground. The other cast members rushed over to assist her.

Christine sighed with relief, then glanced over at Meg, who was still staring at the tapestry in shock. "It's alright now, Meg. I don't think anyone was hurt...aside from Carlotta." Christine said, glancing over at the Prima Donna who was now causing a commotion among the managers as she threatened to quite the production all together. Meg blinked a few times, then turned back to face Christine, her blue eyes wide.

"It was the Phantom of the Opera, it had to be."

"Meg-" Christine began, but she didn't finish.

"Christine Daae could sing it, Sir." Christine's head snapped up at the sound of her name. Madame Giry walked over to where she stood, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"A chorus girl? Don't be silly." Andre said, dismissive of the very idea.

"She has been taking lessons from a great teacher." Madame Giry said pointedly.

Christine suddenly felt frozen in place. What on earth was Madame trying to do?

"Who?" Andre asked. Christine looked at the ground, embarrassed. Her angle was a very secretive man.

"I...don't know his name Monsieur." She admitted.

"Let her sing for you, Monsieur. She has been well taught." Madame Giry said. Why was she so eager to push the issue, Christine wondered.

The two managers glanced at one another, considering Giry's proposal. Andre spoke first.

"Well, alright then." He said, waving her over to centre stage.

Christine took a tentative step forward. She felt as if butterflies had been let loose inside her stomach.

"Come along, don't be shy," said Andre as he motioned her toward him. Christine took her place, staring out at the rows of empty seats.

"From the beginning of the aria then please, Mademoiselle" Monsieur Reyer called from the orchestra pit. Christine swallowed the lump in her throat and began to sing. Her voice was sweet and pure, floating effortlessly over the notes, just the way her Angel taught her. When she finished, everyone in the room stood around her in stunned silence.

Andre and Firman looked at one another in shock, until Firman broke the silence.

"Andre," he said "I think we have found our star."


	2. Eyes That Burn

As cast members gathered around the stage, sharing in Christine's joy, a dark figure kept to the shadows, watching silently from the rafters above. A smile tugged at the Phantom's lips as he watched Christine celebrate her newly appointed role. He was exceedingly glad that Giry had obeyed his order to suggest Christine for the role that was rightfully hers. Finally, his Angel would get the recognition she deserved, rather than that dreadful, shrieking creature Carlotta. He desired nothing more than to rip those hideous vocal chords from her throat. Just the thought of her shrill voice made the hunger flare painfully inside him, clawing through his insides like a dying animal. Clenching his fists, he took a step back, refusing to let the hunger break free.

Stealing one last glance at Christine's smiling face, he retreated into the shadows.

When he reached the depths of his lair, Erik sat at his organ and began to play. Slowly, his fingers glided over the bone white keys, pounding out a somber, ghostly aria. This was his music, a melody so dark it spoke the language of his sorrow. He leaned toward the instrument, his body swaying as the notes took flight. As the song reached a crescendo, he finally felt the hunger recede to a bearable level. As the notes faded, he looked over at the wall adorned with portraits of Christine that he'd drawn over the years. How they displayed the evolution of her face from child to woman, how she'd come to be the exquisite beauty she was now. Erik smiled to himself. It was a rare twinge of happiness that only thoughts of her could bring him. Tonight, his work would pay off. Tonight, she would shine.

* * *

"No!" Madame Giry nearly growled at the mob of fans clustered outside Christine's dressing room door. When she'd finally shut out the crowed, she turned toward Christine, a warm motherly smile lighting her features.

"You did very well, my dear." Giry moved away from the door to pick up the rose that sat on the gilded vanity. She handed it to Christine. "he is pleased with you."

Hesitantly, Christine took the rose from Giry, feeling her cheeks flush. Her small smile threatened to break into a grin as she fingered the black satin bow around its stem. _He_ _was_ _pleased_ _with_ _her_. Those words alone were enough to make her heart race.

* * *

Later that evening, Christine sat alone at her vanity, still entranced by the rose, by the concrete evidence of her Angel's approval.

"little lotte, let he mind wander," a voice jolted her from her thoughts. She looked up into the man's familiar, handsome face.

"Raoul!" Christine nearly jumped out of her seat at the shock of seeing him in her dressing room. She never thought she'd get as close to him again. Raoul knelt down next to her vanity, smiling. He leaned forward and she felt his strong wrap around her.

"Christine, you sang like an angel tonight." Raoul said. Christine beamed at him.

"Raoul it's true, I have been visited by the angel of music!"

"Oh, no doubt of it." Raoul said, grinning. Something in his eyes told Christine he wasn't taking her entirely seriously. "and now, we go to supper." He nodded as though the decision were final, then turned to leave.

Dinner? At this hour? Christine stood, panicked.

"No Raoul, the Angel of Music is very strict!" Raoul chuckled as he headed for the door. was he _laughing_ at her?

"Well, I shan't keep you up late." Christine stared after him, frustrated that her pleas had fallen on deaf ears.

"No, Raoul." She said. He only chuckled at her bewildered expression.

"You must change! I'll order my carriage. Two minutes little lotte"

"No, Raoul wait!" Christine leaped out of her seat to follow him, but he was already out the door. Defeated, she slumped back down in the settee and brushed her fingertips over the rose petals. Perhaps the Angel of Music would be lenient and allow her a night out, just this once, especially after such a grand performance. Her angel wanted her to be happy, didn't he?

Suddenly, Christine felt the room drop in temperature, like someone had left a window open and let the cold winter air waft in. Goosebumps appeared on her flesh and she shivered, rubbing her arms. But it wasn't just the cold that made the room feel odd. It was the erie sensation in her gut that told her someone else was in the room with her, watching.

Christine shook her head. Maybe she really did need a night out. And, despite his cavalier attitude, she was happy to see Raoul again. He'd ignited a flame inside of her, a warm feeling she wasn't entirely sure of. As she slipped behind the dressing screen, she could only imagine what the night would bring.

* * *

Moments later, Christine emerged wearing a simple black dress with lace accents around the bust and wrists. Standing in front of the large, gilded mirror, she turned from side to side, assessing her appearance. The gown hugged her slender curves and dipped low in the chest, making her look much older than her seventeen years. She'd let her hair hang in loose ringlets down her back and shoulders. To her great disappointment, she didn't have time for anything more elaborate.

Grabbing a black shawl from across her chair, she quickly flung it around her shoulders. The room was still noticeably cold and the strange, omnipresent feeling still hung in the air, making her palms sweat despite the chill. Christine's eyes searched the room, but for what she didn't know. Everything was exactly as it should be, nothing out of place in her large, immacualte room. Christine sighed. it was only her anxiety over meeting Raoul again, or at least that was what she told herself as she surveyed the room one last time. Even as she slipped out the door, she couldn't shake the feeling of eyes burning into her.


	3. Savior

The carriage rolled along the snowy cobble stones, pulling to a stop in front of Raoul's estate. Raoul stepped out first and walked to the side of the carriage. He took Christine's hand, helping her down.

Christine stared in wonder at the massive, imposing estate. The thing could only be called a mansion. Raoul looked over at her, smilig at her wonder struck expression.

"Impressive, isn't it?" he said with a smirk. "Let's go inside shall we? My chef has prepared us a stake dinner." Christine found her stomach growling at the mention of food. She hadn't eaten since the early afternoon.

"Yes, lets." she said, her voice a breath of frost. She followed Raoul up the marble steps and through the large, oak doors. When they stepped through, a butler was there to greet them. He must have been in his seventies, Christine thought. There was something unsettling about his look. He had a pallid complexion with thinning hair, a hooked nose and beady black eyes that stared at her a little too long. He took the viscount's coat and hers as well, placing them over his thin arm.

"The dinning room is down the hall." Raoul said, waving her in his direction. And what a grand hall it was. Christine's eyes darted about, taking in every detail of the richly texured walls and polished stone floors. Just how much money did Raoul and his parents have?

They continued down the long hallway to a small, cozy room. In it was a table and two cushioned chairs lit by a gas lamp in the middle of the table. The furniture was all dark, polished mahogany and heavy maroon curtains. Shelves of books lined the walls, indicating Raoul's status as a well read gentlemen.

"This is my private dinning room." Raoul said. He walked over to one of the plush chairs and pulled it out from the table. "Have a seat, Christine. The servants will bring our food shortly."

Tentatively, Christine took her seat, Raoul sitting across from her. Almost immediately, He reached for the bottle of wine sitting on the table and filled his crystal glass to the brim.

"Would you care for a glass?" He asked, holding out the bottle

"Oh...I suppose I'll have just a little, thank you." She said. Raoul took her glass and poured the red liquid into it. Christine had only tasted alcohol once two years ago, when Meg had managed to smuggle a bottle of wine away from one of the older dancers. Meg had shared the bottle with Christine who, upon tasting the contents, spit it right back out and vowed never to go near the stuff again.

Not wanting to appear rude, Christine took a sip. It wasn't as rancid as she remembered, but still burned her throat on the way down.

Raoul was going on about something, but she'd hardly been paying attention. She was still somewhat shocked by the whole situation. Her childhood sweetheart had shown up in her dressing room, inviting her to dinner and against her better judgment, she'd accepted. Part of her had longed to be alone with her old friend again and now that she was, all she could think of was her Angel. What would he say when she returned? Would he be angry? And what would he think of her _drinking_? Surly this burning acid couldn't be good for her voice...

"Christine,"

Raoul's voice jolted Christine from her reverie. She blinked rapidly, looking into his crystal blue eyes, lamplight dancing across his face.

"What are you brooding about over there?" He asked, a playful smirk highlighting his boyish good looks. "You've hardly said a word since the ride over."

"N-nothing at all." Christine stuttered. It was true, the carriage ride had been just as awkward. It was just that Raoul seemed so grown up and sophisticated now. She'd been so nervous, she couldn't think of anything to say. He was a Vicomte for heaven's sake, hardly on the same level as herself. Aside from the few childhood memories they shared, she had to admit she didn't really know him anymore.

Raoul sat back in his cushioned chair, his eyes boring into her. "Well then, shall I reiterate what an enchanting performance you gave tonight? I was bewitched from the moment I saw you on stage and so was everyone else in that audience." Raoul said. His eyes sparkled as he spoke. Christine felt herself blushing. With a shy smile, she cast her eyes downward.

"There's no need to be shy, Christine. You're a real star now." Raoul said, reaching across the table to cover her hand with his own. The action made Christine's blush deepen. She looked up at him, smiling demurely.

"I don't know if I'm a star yet, Raoul. I've only had one solo." She said.

"nonsense, Christine. I know the managers were impressed with your performance. You're going to be a bigger sensation than Carlotta." Raoul said as he took another sip of his wine. Christine could only offer him a timid smile. She wasn't used to such lavish compliments

Suddenly, the french doors opened with a creek and a maid emerged with their plates of food in hand. She set them on the table, silent and unobtrusive.

Christine looked at the sumptuous meal in front of her and, for the second time that night, her stomach growled. She had the urge to toss the utensils aside and dig into the steak and potatoes with her bare hands. For propriety's sake, she resisted. Instead, she cut into the well done steak, putting a bite in her mouth. The flavour was beyond incredible.

"Mmm." She mumbled through the food. She'd never been served anything like it at the opera house. She caught Raoul's smile from the other end of the table.

"I take it the meal is satisfactory?" He asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

"Very." Christine replied.

* * *

As the evening went on and they'd finished their meals, Raoul spoke of his school days abroad and his parents decision to become patrons of the Opera.

"...They've always had such a vested interest in the arts. I'm glad they did it, especially now that you're our lovely new Diva." He said, pouring himself another glass of wine. It must have been his fifth one of the evening, Christine thought. Alcohol seemed to make him talkative. She couldn't have gotten a word in edgewise if she wanted to. Christine sat back and listened to Raoul's rambling. If she was being truthful, her mind had wandered off. She'd had another glass of wine and the stuff was beginning to make her dizzy.

Suddenly, Raoul stood up from his chair and came around to her side of the table. Christine noticed a slight stumble in his gait and his eyes were the slightest bit red. He reached out, taking her hand in his.

"Come sit with me, Christine." He said

"I thought I was." Christine said, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean sit _next_ to me, silly girl." Raoul replied, wrapping his hand around hers and pulling her from her seat. He lead her across the room to the divan and sat her down on the soft cushions. He sat beside her and leaned in close, placing his large hands over hers. Christine could smell the alcohol wafting from his breath. Instinctively, she leaned away from him. Raoul reached up and placed a hand on her cheek, caressing her.

"Oh, Christine..." He slurred. "You look so ravishing tonight, darling."

Christine couldn't think of a response. She sat frozen in place as Raoul's hand stroked its way from her neck down to the curve of her breast. Revulsion coiled inside her stomach.

"You're too beautiful. I needed to snatch you up before anyone else did." He said as he toyed with the lace of her bodice.

"Raoul, no." Christine said, trying her hardest to sound firm, but the words came out shakier than she intended.

She placed her hands on his chest, trying to push him away, but it was no use. Before she knew it, he'd crawled on top of her, arms on either side of her head, trapping her beneath him. Christine's heart hammered against her chest and everything she'd just eaten threatened to come back up.

"Stop. Raoul...stop it!" Her voice grew urgent as she shoved her fist into his shoulder. The action didn't phase him. She struggled beneath him, trying in vain to push him off her, but the wine had dulled her senses, making her limbs feel weak and useless. Tears formed behind her eyes as she felt Raoul's lips on her neck, kissing and biting their way down her flesh.

"My lovely, Christine." He whispered, pulling her skirt up to expose her slender leg. His fingers raked up her knee to the apex of her thigh and a fresh wave of disgust jolted through her. She squeezed her legs shut, wriggling away from him.

"Just relax." He whispered, "You'll like it, I promise." Again, Christine attempted to shove him off her, but her fists were futile against his larger frame. Raoul's fingers continued to caress her thigh like a group of revolting snakes as his body pressed into her. Tears rolled freely down Christine's cheeks, her screams lodged in her throat.

The sound of shattering glass caught Raoul's attention. His eyes darted around the room, searching for the intruder who dared to interrupt him.

"Who's th-"

Before he could finish his sentence, a hand grabbed him from behind, ripping him from the Divan. Christine heard Raoul's cry of agony along with several objects crashing to the floor. She looked up and spotted Raoul across the room, now slumped on the floor against one of the bookshelves, his hair tousled and messy. A drop of blood ran down his forehead and he held his hands up meekly in front of his face as if trying to protect himself...then, Christine noticed the tall, imposing figure standing before him. Her vision blurry, she could only make out the silhouette of a long, black cape.

"You had better watch your back, boy." The stranger snarled. "You're lucky I don't kill you here and now, you filthy swine."

"Wh-who the hell are you? What do you want with me?" Raoul whimpered.

"What I _want_ ," the man's mocking voice growled, "is for you to stay away from her." He advanced further and Raoul curled himself up against the wall of books. "If you fail to heed my warning, I will not hesitate to make your death a slow and agonizing one. _Understood_?" The stranger snapped. Raoul squeezed his eyes shut and mumbled something she couldn't decipher.

Faintly, Christine could hear a commotion stirring outside the door. It must have been the servants coming to see what all the fuss was about, but she couldn't tell and she suddenly felt too tired to care.

Then, the stranger turned to face her and she was met with a pair of eyes that burned red as raging wildfire. He advanced toward her, holding out a gloved hand. His lips moved, but Christine couldn't make out what he said before a wave of exhaustion crashed into her and the world went black.


	4. Awakened

Erik lifted Christine's limp body into his arms. He looked down at her pale face, her normally flawless skin marred by the bruise-like circles under her eyes. She looked so fragile, her head lolling against his chest. The sight of her was like a burning sword through his heart, aggravating the barely controlled rage that roiled inside him. He planted a swift kiss on Christine's forehead. The boy would pay for this, he promised.

The sound of frantic voices echoed from the hallway, growing steadily closer. Of course, the help would soon arrive to check on the damage. He needed to leave. Without another glance in the insolent boy's direction, he hugged Christine's body close to his chest and leapt through the broken window. He raced through the frigid night, faster than any human could comprehend without leaving so much as a footprint in the pristine, virgin snow.

* * *

Erik lay Christine gingerly in the phoenix bed so as not to disturb her. In such close proximity, he couldn't help breathing in the rich scent of her blood. It was even stronger now than it had been in the cold night air. The headiness of it assaulted his senses, causing his fangs to protrude as the hunger reared its ugly head. He closed his eyes, forcing it back into the recesses of his mind. _No_. He thought. Not now, not tonight.

Erik stared down at Christine, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath she took. He couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch her. Drawing his thumb along the curve of her cheek, he felt the warmth that radiated from her flesh, sensing the life force that pulsed beneath her perfect, silken skin. His eyes swept down the slender curves of her form, drinking in her effervescent beauty. He sighed. Even in sleep, she enticed him.

" _Only you can make my song take flight…"_ He sang in a whispered tone. He caressed her full bottom lip before letting his hand fall away from her face. Reluctantly, he turned away from her and walked toward his organ to compose.

* * *

Christine's eyes fluttered open. The world around her was blurry at first, then slowly came into focus. Her body was sprawled in a mound of plush sheets and pillows. She looked down to realize she still wore the black lace dress from the night before…gradually, panic seeped into her, making her heart race. Was she still in Raoul's house? Was he lurking somewhere, waiting for her to wake up? If he was, she needed to get out of there, and fast. She sat up quickly and immediately regretted the decision. A sharp pain sliced through her skull like a knife. She winced and rubbed her temples to dull the pain when suddenly, a deep, thunderous voice echoed through the room.

"It would be wise not to sit up so quickly, especially after the night you've had."

Christine turned toward the sound, and froze. Eyes the colour of dark red roses locked with hers and she felt as if all the air had escaped her lungs. Christine couldn't tear her gaze from him as he surveyed her with a serene, almost impassive expression. She could only stare, dumbstruck as she took in his alluring features; his high cheekbones and straight nose, full lips set in a broad, strong jaw. The white mask that covered the left side of his face did nothing to detract from his seductive beauty. Her gaze traveled lower, down the line of his neck where his white ruffled shirt hung open to reveal a defined, well-muscled chest. Only then did she notice the silver platter in his hands. It overflowed with succulent, red grapes and a crystal glass filled to the brim with sparkling clear water. Christine swallowed hard at the sight of it. She hadn't noticed the dryness in her mouth or the pang of hunger in her stomach.

"Where _am_ I?" She asked, once she'd managed to tear her eyes away from him. The masked man walked over to her bed and set the platter down next to her.

"Eat first. Then I will tell you all you wish to know." He said. Christine gave him a hesitant glance. Then, obediently took a grape from the bunch and popped it into her mouth. The flavour was exquisite. She ate another and then another, taking them by the handful, then greedily gulped down the entire goblet of water. In the moment, she didn't care how improper she must look to the beautiful man standing next to her. When she finished, Christine wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I see the water and grapes helped?" The man said. Christine looked up at him, noticing the smallest hint of a playful smile on his lips as he stared down at her. She averted her gaze, suddenly feeling foolish for acting like such a pig.

"Yes, Thank you." She began, and then realized she didn't know how to properly address him. "I'm sorry, Sir…I'm afraid I don't know your name?" She asked, her voice quiet.

"You may call me Erik," he said "and I can see in your face that you have many more questions, Christine."

Christine's eyes widened with surprise. How on earth did this man know her name?

"I have known you for many years." He answered her unspoken thought as he moved closer to where she lay.

"Come here." He said. His voice was soothing, yet achingly seductive as he held out his hand to her. Mesmerized, Christine lifted her body from the lush pillows and without hesitation, slipped her hand into his.

 **Yay, it's Winter break and I can finally upload a new chapter! I hope you liked it. I may also be changing the title, but I haven't decided yet. Just a heads up. Happy Holidays xoxoxox**


	5. Face to face

Christine followed as Erik lead her down the stone steps and into a lushly decorated cave. She stood still for a moment, dumbstruck by the sheer beauty surrounding her. Erik placed a hand on her back, guiding her forward. She was shocked by the warmth of it, the way his thick fingers pressed against her.

"Go on, have a look around. Don't be shy." He said. Christine gave him a fleeting look, then allowed herself to step forward and wander about the rocky expanse.

Fabrics adorned the walls in shades of gold and red. Candles rose up from every corner of the alcove, filling it with an ambient glow. To her left was a vast, shimmering lake, mist swirling over the surface as it lapped against the shore. At the centre of the room stood large organ on a raised platform, sheets of music with elaborate compositions scattered around it. Sketches of everything form faces to buildings were pinned across the velvet curtains.

Christine's gaze traveled further still, to a collection of tiny wax dolls that stood on what she recognized as a miniature version of the Opera Populaire's stage. Intrigued, She walked up to the display to get a closer look, Her fingers gliding carefully over the wax figurines. There was Carlotta, the corpse dancers...and her, the night she performed the aria Think of Me. It was all so exquisite, Every detail exactly as she remembered it, down to the painted blue sky and trees, even the tiny glass chandelier that dangled above the figurine. Christine glanced over her shoulder at the man called Erik.

"You...made all of this yourself?" She asked, her voice full of wonder. He nodded.

"But how...It's all so perfect." She murmured, more to herself than to him.

"After so many years keeping watch over this place, I wouldn't expect my replicas of it to be anything but." He said, walking up behind her. Christine could hear the slight smile in his voice as she turned to face him.

"Watching over it?" Christine asked. "Like some sort of guardian angel?" Erik smirked, causing her heart to flutter.

"Something like that." He said. Christine swallowed, his soft words causing a fluttering of nerves in her stomach. There was some undeniable edge to this man's presence, something intimidating about him that Christine couldn't place. She gazed at him, at the white mask that sat on the left side of his face and an image from her dream flashed unbidden through her mind. Stunned, she blinked it away, opting to change the topic.

"So…where are we?" She asked softly.

"My home, far below, in the bowls of the opera house" Erik answered.

"oh? And why do you need to live all the way down here?" She asked.

"Because I have many secrets." He said cryptically. Christine took a deep breath before replying, hoping she wouldn't offend him. She wrung her hands together as she spoke.

"With all due respect, Sir...that doesn't help me understand this situation any better."

Erik paused for a moment, as if weighing his next words carefully. Then he looked at her, his dark red eyes piercing.

"Do you recall those stories of the fabled opera ghost?"

"Yes of course." She replied. How could she not? It was a near constant topic of conversation among everyone living in the opera house. Erik stepped closer, nearly touching her.

"And your mysterious angel of music, who sang you to sleep every night?" He spoke softly, giving her a pointed look. Christine gazed up at him.

"You..." she whispered. Her eyes widened, incredulous. Her mind reeled as it pieced together what he was telling her.

She was standing face to face with the Opera Ghost.

XxAuthors note: hey everyone. Sorry it took forever to update. I struggled a bit with this chapter, but I've been more inspired lately, so there will be more to come soon! I hope you'll keep reading. The best is yet to come. Xoxo


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